


Is Nothing Sacred to You

by The_Capricious_One



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU where everyone lives, F/M, Foreplay, Strong Language, playful remus, sexual mischief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 05:07:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3475565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Capricious_One/pseuds/The_Capricious_One
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Lupin and Professor Granger are stuck in the longest and most boring meeting of the academic year. Lupin decides to spice things up. Established relationship.<br/>"He looked up, meeting her furious gaze with a pleasant smile, as if he weren’t magically fondling her twat in a room full of their coworkers."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Is Nothing Sacred to You

The summer ended, as it always did, with the longest and most boring meeting of the entire year. Hermione dutifully took notes on Dumbledore’s ramblings, and tried not to let her eyes glaze over. The legendary start-of-year meetings, _absolutely mandatory, not even an Order of Merlin Second Class exempts you Mr. Snape_ , were enough to try even Hermione’s equally legendary patience.  
  
As Professor Sinistra yammered on about this year’s curriculum, Hermione felt something brush against her leg. She smoothed down her robes. By the time that Sinistra had wrapped up, she felt it again six more times. She was perplexed. Her colleagues were sitting a good two feet away from her on either side, and a surreptitious check under the table reassured her that she wasn’t brushing against a table leg. There wasn’t even a draft in the stuffy staff room. The sensation moved up her legs to her inner thigh. It was the weirdest feeling; almost as if somebody were running their hands over her skin. It was rather pleasant, and despite her confusion she was beginning to be turned on. She shifted in her seat, hoping that it would go away soon. The last thing she needed was to spend the next three hours fantasizing about Remus.  
  
When the sensation moved to her labia, her entire body jerked in surprise. This was definitely not some problem with the nerves in her legs; something else was at play here. She began running nonverbal detection spells. After casting all fourteen spells in her repertoire, she was reasonably certain that there was no charm or hex placed on her. That avenue depleted, she began looking around herself for any magical objects. She couldn’t see or sense anything. The sensation was growing even more distracting; it felt like someone was rubbing slow, gentle circles on her clit.  
  
There wasn’t much more she could do at the moment, and it didn’t seem like her predicament was putting her in much danger, except mortification. Hermione did her best to push down her growing arousal and pay attention to meeting. Unfortunately, it was impossible to listen at length to Hagrid and Professor Sprout bicker over which fertilizer was best for topiary, especially when the steady pressure increased. It was becoming hard to remain still in her seat and her expression neutral. The slow circles became infinitesimally faster and she bit her lip to keep from moaning outright.  
  
By this point Hermione was wracking her brains for some way to get out of the staff room. After twenty minutes of this goddamn inconvenience, she knew that her control wouldn’t last much longer. She already taken her one permissible bathroom break (which had happened to coincide with the point in the meeting when Trelawney insisted that she be allowed to read the tea leaves of all the staff members), so she was definitely stuck. Dumbledore had been a professor long enough to have heard every excuse in the book, and he was unlikely to believe anything she came up with. Was it better to humiliate herself by verbally explaining her problem in front of her colleagues, or to humiliate herself by orgasming right there? Either way, she was never going to hear the end of this.  
  
She cast an anxious glance up the table. Maybe if she told Minerva that she needed to leave, Minerva would stand up for her, no question asked. In looking around, she finally allowed herself to glance at Remus.  
  
He was rubbing the table in front of him slowly, with two fingers, at exactly the same rate as that infuriating sensation.  
  
That. Bastard.  
  
He looked up, meeting her furious gaze with a pleasant smile, as if he weren’t magically fondling her twat in a room full of their coworkers. For a moment she was hypnotized by his hands, struck by how beautiful they were, how much she wanted to touch them, for him to touch her--  
  
But for Merlin’s sake, not in the middle of a meeting. Hermione crossed with her legs, so that his fingers circled ineffectually against her thigh. Remus stopped the motion of his hand. He cocked his head to the side, and smirked the tiniest amount. She only had the time to think _oh no—_ before he shifted ever so slightly in his seat, rolling his hips forward. For the first time in the entire encounter, Hermione made an involuntary little sound.  
  
“Are you quite all right, Hermione?” Minerva asked. “You look very flushed, my dear.”  
  
“I’m not – – feeling my best,” she said in a strained voice.  
  
“Professor Dumbledore, she’s been ill all week. I _told_ her that she should stay at home and rest, but she insisted she had to come to this meeting. She took a potion this morning, but it looks like her fever is back. I think it might be best if I take her to Madame Pomfrey,” Remus said. His face with a mask of concern, and Hermione had to marvel at how very good he was at acting. She firmly resolved to break his face if she ever caught him lying to her. It would serve the wanker right.  
  
“As loath as I am to let anybody leave the first academic meeting of the year, I suppose I must make an exception,” Dumbledore sighed.  
  
Remus came at once to her side and made a show of helping her up. They exited the staff room and Hermione pulled him into the nearest alcove.  
  
“You can’t do that sort of thing in a _meeting--_ ” she hissed, but Remus clearly wasn’t listening. He knelt and hitched up her robes, sliding her knickers down her hips.  
  
“And don’t think you’re going to get away with this by – – _fuck,_ ” she said. His mouth was on her and she couldn’t concentrate on anything else. Her hands fisted in his hair. Her knees weakened, and she fell onto the cold windowsill behind her. After his shameless teasing, it didn’t even take a full minute to bring her to shuddering release. She slumped against the window as her body slowly unwound.  
  
“I can’t believe you did that in the staff room,” she said more calmly. “Is nothing sacred to you?”  
  
“How was I going to get you to skive off the meeting with me?” Remus said, wiggling his eyebrows.  
  
Hermione smacked him upside the head. “You’ve been spending too much time with Sirius. He’s an awful influence on you.”  
  
“I’m aware,” Remus said.  
  
Hermione groaned. “Not the werewolf puns. Anything but the werewolf puns.”  
  
Remus just smirked and kissed her gently on her inner thigh.  
  
“If you _ever_ do that again,” Hermione said sternly, “at least choose a shorter meeting.”  
  
Remus’s grin was positively feral.


End file.
